Evergrande, of China's domain, now in distress of debt,
Its staff detained, its shares in wane, a scene we shan't forget.
Just as a tun of vintage runs, when tapped too eager flows,
Thus too this enterprise undone, its troubles overflow.
In distant Kyiv, war doth drain their treasury of gold,
A patchwork plan, in desperate vein, ensures their defense hold.
Like mendicant with begging bowl, in poverty, not pride,
They scavenge for each precious toll, their needs cannot abide.
A letter found within the Holy See, a dreadful tale unfolds,
Of Pope Pius, and the dark decree he knew of, we are told.
As silent as a cloistered cell, he wore a veil of peace,
Whilst in his heart, he knew full well, the horrors ne'er did cease.
